Reagan Wears a Tutu
by Just a Janus
Summary: Reagan has had a passion for ballet since she was small. Natalie convinces and helps her to pursue that passion. (AU: no Cahill bloodline) Reagan/Natalie. Femslash. Rated teen for language and certain situations.


_Adagio_

_Croisé_

_Pirouette_

_Arabesque_

Reagan knew all of the terminology- she'd spent hours researching the history, the moves, the techniques. She was eleven when she first started watching clips of ballet dancers on Youtube. She admired the dancers that appeared to sail through midair effortlessly, the dancers that performed the most difficult and physically demanding moves with such grace that they formed an illusion of delicacy in their movements.

Sometimes, during her rare alone time, (in order to prevent herself from ridicule by her family,) she practiced the moves herself, attempting to replicate the beautiful fluctuations of motion that she'd seen the dancers on her computer screen make. Reagan tried for weeks to move as beautifully as the professionals, and she'd come to learn that it was hard.

_Ballet is hard._

That only fueled Reagan's passion for the art, and her respect for its performers.

And more than anything, it made Reagan want to master ballet herself.

_Except I can't, _

A seventeen-year-old Reagan thought bitterly as she left the fitness center, her gym bag tossed over her shoulder. She passed several rooms on her way out, and through the large glass paneling that displayed each class, she saw many different types of people doing many different things- there was a dance class practicing, jujitsu training, an aerobics class, gymnastics, yoga.

Reagan was at the fitness center to use the gym and train in the pool. It seemed like all Reagan _ever_ did was train; she trained for track at the recreation center with her sister, trained at home with her entire family, and while school was in, her dad made sure that she had at least three physical education classes each semester- to put it simply, it got tiring.

Not at all to say that Reagan despised physical activity- she absolutely loved exercise. Her issue was the intense pressure that her parents placed on her to prepare and qualify for The Olympics. Her father was convinced that her ultimate passion in life was becoming a gold medalist for nearly every swimming event in existence. Reagan had the feeling that that was more _his_ passion than hers.

Her dad, Eisenhower Holt, had always pressured his children to become athletes. He pushed them and trained them and wired them to grow to be tough, strong, and determined. He definitely succeeded. Hamilton was the star player for the UW football team. Reagan and Madison both dominated nearly every sport their high school offered- Madison even made the football team, to much of their community's dismay.

With a sigh, Reagan stopped in front of room 103- Ballet. They practiced every Wednesday at 4 o'clock, and she never missed her chance to admire the form and technique of the dancers. The girls were currently stretching, using barres for their exercises. They were amazing.

Reagan really did want to make her parents proud. She wanted to become what they expected of her, and ten times more.

She only wished that they would be proud of her for _everything _she wanted to be.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing?" Came a posh voice that nearly caused Reagan to jump out of her skin.

She whipped around to face the person that had sneaked up on her. The culprit was a girl about Reagan's age, though smaller than Reagan, and remarkably pretty.

"Um- I'm just watching them. I was about to leave." Reagan analyzed the girl before her, taking note of her perfect makeup and nice clothing. She probably wasn't here for anything athletic.

"Ah, I see. It's just that you're all sweaty and were looking at them so longingly- it was a bit alarming, is all." Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she took it out to check something- then put the phone away as quickly as she retrieved it. Reagan was glaring at her as she looked back up from her designer jeans.

"What?" The girl sighed. "Oh goodness, don't look at me like that, I was only kidding." She waved an arm at Reagan, her dangly bracelets jingling. "By the way, I'm Natalie Kabra..." Natalie squinted her eyes and leaned forward to read the membership card that hung around Reagan's neck, "Reagan Holt. I don't know if you're aware, but my mother owns this facility."

"Yeah, I wasn't aware," Reagan grumbled as she inched away, still on the defensive. "I really need to go."

"What, why? You really seemed to enjoy watching them, I'm sure no one would mind if you sat in to view." Natalie somehow managed to sound encouraging and disinterested at the same time.

Reagan cast another look toward the room, then looked down. "I shouldn't, I have to meet my sister at the Rec. department soon for softball practice."

"Softball practice_?_" Natalie's perfect eyebrows pulled downward. "You just got done working out here."

"Tight schedule."

"I see. That sounds a bit dreadful to me, but whatever floats your yacht, I suppose." She eyed Reagan carefully. "So you like ballet, hm?"

Reagan shrugged. "I like to _watch_ ballet."

"Well if you're so athletic, why don't you do ballet yourself?"

Reagan stared at Natalie for a moment, unsure of what she should say. There was the fact that her family wouldn't approve of her doing ballet. There was also that she didn't have much time on her hands to take ballet classes.

"...I don't think my parents would want me to, so there's no way I could pay for the classes." Reagan finally said, satisfied with her reply. Natalie laughed.

"Oh come on, how does that prevent you from taking ballet? They're paying for your gym membership, yes?"

"Yeah, and my allotted pool time, too." Reagan said, a frown beginning to creep onto her features.

"Then use the money for _those_ things and take ballet instead! As I said, my mum owns this place, and I'm positive I could arrange something-"

"There is no way I'm doing that." Reagan cut her off. She twisted the headband that held her brown bangs out of her face and stepped away from Natalie, inching down the hallway. Natalie's face fell into surprise, as though lying to your parents was a part of everyday life.

"Why, though?" Natalie called. "I can tell you're passionate about it. I've seen you staring every time they practice. I'm not dense."

Reagan stopped and crossed her arms. "Because what you're telling me to do is totally wrong, and my parents actually trust me."

"Yes, but do they care to understand all of your interests?"

Reagan dropped her arms.

"Look," Natalie sighed and reached into her purse, withdrawing a small card. "This has my cellphone number on it. If you change your mind about this, just text me, and I'll work with you. Okay?" She handed over the card and flashed the most gorgeous smile Reagan had ever witnessed- though it didn't seem entirely genuine.

Reagan took the card gingerly.

_Natalie Kabra_

_Student, Designer, and Manager_

_Business: 555-302-8209_

_Fax: 555-390-8454_

_Cell: 555-345-9844_

"Why are you doing this?" The brunette said after glancing over the business card.

"I'm just a sincerely kind person." Natalie's glossy black hair fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head."Well, bye-bye now," she wiggled her fingers. "You have softball practice to get to, don't you?"

Reagan blinked, momentarily mesmerized by Natalie Kabra.

"Yeah," Reagan managed to say, slipping the card into her pocket. "Have a good one, I guess."

She turned after giving Natalie one last inquisitive look, and jogged to the double-doors at the end of the hallway.

* * *

_What kind of teenage girl has a business card? And a _fax machine_ at that?_

Reagan was brooding during her ride home with her sister. Madison was driving. Normally, Reagan worried when her twin drove theircar- yes,_ their_. The two of them shared the big burgundy SUV. Usually Madison had some serious road rage- she got it from their dad- but today she seemed particularly calm. It probably had something to do with the scholarship she'd just earned for her achievement in sports. Whatever it was, Reagan was thankful.

"So why are you so gloomy today, Mr. President?" Madison smirked over at her sister. '_Mr. President'_ was an ongoing joke that Reagan and her siblings had, considering all three were named after U.S. presidents. "You aren't jea-lous of me, are you?"

"No, I'm not jealous, Mads." Reagan rolled her eyes and smiled lightly at her sister. "I'm actually really happy for you. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

Madison groaned and swerved to pass a minivan that was driving too slow for her liking. "You're not worried about softball tryouts, are you? I'm sure we'll get decent players this year, I've seen what some of them can do."

"No, it's nothing like that. I don't really want to talk about it."

"What, are you on your period? I thought we were synced."

"What? _Madison."_

Madison cackled as they pulled into their driveway.

* * *

"So I heard that Hamilton here had an eventful day," Mary-Todd said, sitting down at the dinner table with a smile. Hamilton nodded quickly as he chewed, then swallowed and banged the table with his fist. "YEAH. Me and Jonah are going to PARIS. We signed up for some program that lets us take a couple of classes abroad," He stabbed his fork into a plate of pork chops as it passed by, "They're gonna let me play rugby!"

"That's my boy," Eisenhower boomed and smacked his son on the back. "You kick their wimpy French tails for me, Ham. PARLEZ-VOUZ THIS."

"I got a sports scholarship today! I almost have a full ride to UW like Ham," Madison called out, flashing a proud grin. Mary-Todd clapped happily.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you, Madison!" She smiled at her husband, "Honey, did you hear that?"

"Sweetie, I'm only partially deaf from multiple concussions, of COURSE I HEARD! C'MERE MADISON, YOU DEMON." Eisenhower pushed his chair back in a swift motion and opened his arms- this provided the perfect opportunity for their beefy pit bull, Arnold, to jump into his lap and propel himself onto the table. Chaos ensued.

This was the way that the Holt family had dinner. There was plenty of yelling, throwing food, and sudden outbursts of obnoxious laughter. It was one of the things that Reagan loved about her family. Despite how they all act while going about their day, they can always expect to be their truly uproarious selves at the table.

"Reagan, you're being awfully quiet." Mary-Todd pointed out, leaning closer to her daughter as Hamilton and Eisenhower attempted to seize the dog from the table.

"She's been acting all weird since softball practice," Madison said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "She's just in a mood." Mary-Todd shot Madison a look.

"I've just been thinking a lot." Reagan said, expertly dodging a slab of steak flung in her direction by a finally apprehended and squirming Arnold. "It's nothing to be worried about." She smiled at her mother, and Mary-Todd gave her an understanding smile in return.

"SO, where were we?" Eisenhower said as he and Hamilton returned to the table. Arnold whined from the other room.

"Well we heard about my day, and then Mad's. Reagan, how was your day?" Hamilton gestured to his sister. Reagan shrugged and looked down at her plate.

"Pretty uneventful. I went to the fitness center this morning and I practiced for the 100 meter breaststroke- Oh! I saw Coach Felton when I got there. She said I've been improving really rapidly, and also wanted me to say hi to you all for her." Reagan paused and the card in her pocket suddenly felt heavy. "I watched some of the other classes today, too. Did you know they have jujitsu?"

"Dude, jujitsu is awesome!" Hamilton grinned. "I actually did a project for it in my Asian history class."

"Oh, sweet." Reagan grinned. "They also have a yoga class and aerobics. I liked watching the ballet dancers too-"

"BALLET? Pffffff." Eisenhower shook his head and laughed as though this was the most amusing thing he'd heard all day. "Ballet is for willowy girly-girls and sissy boys, Reagan; it's the most pointless type of dance there is- and dance is a whole level of pointless on its own. Why would you ever want to watch that prancy-shmancy mumbo?"

Madison snorted and flicked a spoon of peas at her sister. "Oooh, look at me, prancing on my tiptoes and swishing my tu-tu. Oh golly, look at the audience snooze, I've bored them to sleep with my lovely twirls and my obvious starvation."

Reagan glared dangerously at her sister. "There's a lot more to it than that, you just don't get it-"

"There's nothing TO get, There's no POINT to a USELESS dance, and that's all there is to it." Eisenhower cut her off, ending Reagan's argument effectively.

She didn't speak up for the rest of dinner.

* * *

_Natalie Kabra_

_Student, Designer, and Manager_

_Business: 555-302-8209_

_Fax: 555-390-8454_

Cell: 555-345-9844

Reagan stared at the card, thinking hard. She was laying in bed, curled on her side, blankets only covering half of her body. She heard her dad talking loudly downstairs. He and Madison's words cut into Reagan every time she thought of them, leaving her seething. The front door closed- probably Hamilton leaving for Jonah's. Hamilton and Mary-Todd had been quick to change the conversation when they picked up on Reagan's anger. Neither of them stood up for her.

"_Yes, but do they care to understand all of your interests?" _

Natalie Kabra's words were unceremoniously dragged back into Reagan's mind. And the sad truth was, they didn't care to understand. They didn't even want to try. That settled it.

Reagan pulled out her phone and sent Natalie a text.

_[This is Reagan. Do you still want to help me?]_

After a couple of minutes, Reagan got a reply:

_[See you at Ballet practice Friday. 3:30.]_

* * *

_A/N:_

_Oh jesus I haven't posted on FF in like twelve years. I realized this tiny fandom was severely lacking Reagan/Natalie bonding, so I decided to fix it. And yes, as a warning, it's femslash. Natalie and Reagan will have a romance. Amian will also occur later on, along with lightly suggested Jonah/Hamilton. _

_Please review, it makes me happy. uvu_


End file.
